A Universe To Show You
by LexieBird
Summary: Little ficlet that sprung from the depths of my mind after pondering about The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon. Spoilers, I suppose, for the very very last scene in DotM, but not explicitly spoiled. If that makes sense.


She has never understood when people ask her questions.

Oh, yes, she understands the words. She even understands their meaning, and can answer. But the knowledge leaps to the front of her mind as she speaks, then vanishes again as her words fade on the breeze.

So when she was asked, "Where are you phoning from?" the knowledge of her location flowed easily into her mind. She could've said a thousand things; but in that moment she knew that this was the twentieth century, and that streets were the best option. She didn't hear what else the man said, merely rattled off the street names.

She had never seen outside.

She asked herself questions, sometimes, but never got answers. She got a friend to ask her why she knew the answers to questions. The answer, "Genetic memory."

She knew what memory was. It was the things she'd done, the pain and the fear and the creepy suited men and their gaping mouths. It was the odd man with the bowtie that was so familiar, the curly-haired gun woman, the fiery red-head her timid husband. It was the space suit and the lake and the accident that completed the loop.

Sometimes memory was confused with other things that she remembered but hadn't happened yet. She didn't think this odd, or wrong, or unusual, just annoying.

Genetics, she knew, had something to do with family and what you grew up to be, but beyond that she had no idea. She could get someone to ask, but there was no one left and she looked different now.

She grows and it is normal, even if something in the back of her mind is telling her that the leaves should not be such a dull green, and the sky should not be so shockingly blue and such a different colour from the green, green grass.

People chase her and she runs, and that feels right on all levels except the very surface layer, the one that tells her she is young and should be enjoying the innocence that all children have.

She does not know what innocence is.

She meets the bowtie man again, and she notices a funny buzz that she hadn't noticed the first time, and she simply states it. The man stares and seems to be speechless, shaking his head in soft disbelief even as the curly gun woman speaks softly in his ear.

"What's your name?" he asks, and the girl finds the answer coming to her mind again; she says a word that she does not recognise, but the pair's eyes widen in synchronised recognition and surprise.

"What's my name?" the gun woman asks, and her name is far easier. Two normal words, a flowing body of water and pitches strung together. If she ever had another name, it is long lost in Time. "And his?" she continues, and the man's eyes widen further, turning and frowning at the woman, eyes angry and confused.

The man's name is harder; it does not come from inside her, as much of her knowledge does. It buzzes around in his head, and she just has to reach in herself then reach in him and pluck it out. She speaks, and the man stops whatever angry whispering he's directing at the woman, turning to face the girl, eyes sad and old.

He says her name back to her in response, and she doesn't know whether he knows it's meaning, because she doesn't, but it doesn't matter because he's moving toward her. Most people, when they move toward her, want to hurt her but his voice says, here, don't worry, you can trust me, though his mouth isn't moving and his hands are shaking. She can't bring herself to smile or step closer, but she doesn't move away. When he hugs her she hugs back, as hard as her frail arms can manage.

He pulls back and looks her in the eye, and says, "Boy, do I have a universe to show you."

* * *

><p><em>I dunno what this is. I've been quite interested in what it would be like to be a Time LordLady lately - generally hate the "this character gets transformed into a Time Lord/Lady by MAAGGGIIC" kind of story, but have found myself writing one (that I'm unsure whether it will EVER be posted) for the sole purpose of exploring what it would **feel** like. And what the Doctor's reaction would be, too, I suppose; it certainly wouldn't be easy for him._

_So basically a bit of a not-100-word-drabble._

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed, review if you did, review if you didn't. :D_


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